Virtue and Violence
by Superiety
Summary: Raised on a set of strict principles and morals, Pastor's boy Draco Malefoy's life is one that is planned from the start to the finish. But the monotony of his home-life is beginning to brew quite the rebellious fire within the Malefoy heir, one only spurred by his accidental introduction to devilish bad-boy Harry Potter.
**VIRTUE & VIOLENCE**

 **summary**

Raised on a set of strict principles and morals, Pastor's boy Draco Malefoy's life is one that is planned from the start to the finish. But the monotony of his home-life is beginning to brew quite the rebellious fire within the Malefoy heir, one only spurred by his accidental introduction to devilish bad-boy Harry Potter.

Orphaned at a young age and left in the care of the cruel Dursley's, Harry knew from a young age that adaption was synonymous to survival and love had no part in his world. Collision due to there very different world's is an inevitability when the two meet.

 **Chapter One**

* * *

Brief Section Summary _: a prayer is uttered before dinner, as is the norm in the Malefoy household. What isn't the norm, however, are the thoughts Draco currently juggles with asking of his father._

 _T_ he Malofey manor is by far the largest, most exorbitant estate in London, given it's acres of land as well as the expensive Roman design on the house. The gardens are done in a splendor of marigold and white, in which the families crest, a backwards " _S"_ is featured.

The bright open space of the outdoors is what appeals to each and every guest who takes a tour of the renowned estate. Though very few are able to venture inside of the darkness of the house itself.

The family seems very rigid in who there son is exposed to, thus making entry an impossible task. The exception, however, are the servants of whom the mother herself handpicks based on appearances more so then experience. Size and plainness are both aspects highly esteemed by the Malofey female head, as a servant should not have features befitting those of a noble woman's in her opinion.

Given the Malofey head's position as a pastor within the community, the size of his estate is an object of much debate within the church and the local community.

 _"Thank you for our blessings, holy father. For the food you've placed on our table and for the family you've placed around me. Amen."_

The Malofey heirs' eyes shot open as his father uttered the last word of his usual pre-dinner intonation. Matching the smile his mother pushed in his direction, Draco allowed the briefest of impatient sighs to be uttered from his lips as the food was slid onto each of their respective plates by the houses newest kitchen-aid.

Given his father's position as pastor, the term " _servants_ ", for fear of antagonizing the church's conservative body, was not a term put into practice in the preacher's house.

"Aid" was instead encouraged for use by his father. The kitchen aid, Olivia – he believed her name was – dipped her head in quiet acknowledgement as Draco's gaze slid over her, a blush coloring her cheeks as she hurried from the room.

For a brief couple of minutes a complacent silence was maintained throughout the table, Draco still trying the gather the courage needed for him to ask his father the question that had been eating at him since the beginning of the day.

"Father, I – "

"You've finished all of your homework for today, have you not?"

The interruption was so smooth Draco felt as if a chair of whom's presence he'd been previously unaware of had been yanked out from underneath him. Dipping his head with all of the respect he could muster, the Malofey heir uttered a courteous "yes, sir" that brought an approving slight-smile to his father's lips before he continued.

"I'm assuming you also are aware of my reference to your weekly annotations, as well as your usual interpretations of an ode in the book of Psalms?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you'll have time to attend a last minute bible study class. Perhaps even teach it if you feel prepared to engage in that degree of work."

Draco's heart sunk at the request, smile wavering as he looked up from the dinner he'd been restlessly picking over.

"Actually father.." a brief hesitation before he mustered the courage to continue. "I was hoping to attend a… Attend a social engagement with a couple of classmates."

"A social engagement?" his father prodded at the words with a frown, stealing a glance at his watch.

"Yes… It's kind of like a…" Draco searched his mind for the word they'd used when describing the event to him that afternoon in class. "a study-session with frequent breaks to.. Fraternize with those of other social groups."

"Other social groups?" At that his father extended a skeptical eyebrow. "Do these classmates of yours attend the church?"

Lowering his eyes, Draco prepared for his one chance at fitting in for once with those his age to be shot down. "No, I don't think so."

He could see the "No" on his father's lips before said man had even bothered to utter it.

"But they invited me," Draco hurried to compensate for his less then approved response, "they never invite me to anything, father." Desperation had crept into the boy's voice as he briefly met his father's eyes before glancing downwards once more.

"And this matters to you? You know I don't approve of your hanging out with those… Those pagan children!" his father spat the last two words with the nettle of a curse.

And Draco knew he'd lost the argument barely before it had even started. An argument of how just because the kids in his class didn't follow their set of values didn't mean they were - that accursed word _pagans_ \- was one he didn't even attempt.

"Oh, Lucius," a decidedly feminine voice uttered, annoyance tinging the statement. "let the boy go."

Surprise flickered in the preachor's gaze as his eyes flitted to the area where his previously silent wife sat, expectant gaze fixed on him.

"It would do the boy well to have at least _some_ experiences outside of the church," she continued, "don't you think?"

"I suppose." Lucuis drawled, knowing better then to argue with his wife.

Said woman's lips knit themselves upward into a smile as she squeezed Draco's hand between her own two. "Then it's settled."

The smile came easier this time, Draco finishing his meal with renewed fervor and thoughts of tonight's party. He'd never attended a party of the magnitude before (unless Church events counted) with kids of his age, from his school. And this opportunity was both invigorating and nerve-racking all at once.

* * *

 _...and in the Dursley household the usual chaos ensues as Harry Potter finishes his meal and prepares for the coming events of the day in the best way he can._

 _"Fuck you, bitch!"_

Vernon Dursley bellowed, leaping from his chair to hurl the rooms only source of light apart from the light streaming in through the window from the slowly setting sun - a candle-stick - at his wife. The small room dimmed accordingly. The woman's lip curled back into a snarl reminiscent of a lioness' as she ducked to the side, hurling her arms around her biological son protectively as hot wax scattered across the table.

"Fuck you," Petunia Dursley wailed, anger shrilling her voice to soprano heights as she clutched her protesting son's shoulders with the fervor of an overly-protective mother, "fuck you bastard!"

On the opposite end of the table, Harry Potter barely felt the pain from the heated candle wax that landed on his bare shoulder as he focused on muting the chaos that was currently erupting around him.

 _Just eat and go._

It was his motto - his way of dealing with the usual stress that came with eating even a single meal with the Dursley's. Explosions were the norm at the dinner table; the Dursley's apparent dislike for one another was at first a means of entertainment for Harry.

But the unpredictability of there moods quickly proved to be a threat towards Harry's personal safety, considering that they could and would lash out at him at any given moment. Shoveling another spoonful of the beany substance Petunia referred to as "chicken noodle soup" down his throat, Harry focused on thoughts of the party he'd be sneaking out to attend later tonight. The chicks that would be shoving him down there throats.

Pushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes, the last Potter allowed a grin to pull up his lips at the thought.

"Dad.. Mom.." the biggest piglet of them all, Dudley Dursley whined, squirming from his mother's tight grasp to extend a finger in Harry's general direction. Swallowing a last spoonful, Harry prepared for what he knew would be coming - "he's eating it; he's eating everything."

The chaotic anger was redirected towards him with those simple words, the two Dursley's united in there rage towards Harry. It was one thing they had in common, Harry thought wryly, both hated him and there reliance on him for the state checks sent for his upkeep. Ignoring the snide little smile Dudley sent in his direction, Harry allowed the spoon to slip from his fingers as he begin to slowly sidle towards the Closet - the only room in the house with a still functioning lock making it his only safe place as well.

"Ungrateful son of bitch!"

"Stealing food out of our son's mouth!"

Harry couldn't help the smirk that touched his lips as he uttered the statement he knew would earn him nothing but there animosity -

"My 'stealing' food from his mouth will do wonders for his weight."

A harshly inhaled breath before the sound of two sets of heavy foot-steps begin to pound across the ground towards him. Using the darkened room to his advantage, Harry darted to the cover of the shadows in which his Closet was contained.

The space was literally a closet - an old broom closet he'd been often sent when he'd grown out of his cupboard at age eleven. He'd found the area to be his only place of true comfort; the only place a true sense of safety was achieved.

Turning the lock with a barely audible _click_ , Harry uttered a soft sigh of evident relief as he allowed himself to relax against the corner wall, placing his ear to the door just to be aware of the Dursley's locations.

The sound of heavy foot-steps and slightly stifled shouting made him aware of the rage one if not both Dursley's were expressing. It was the safest decision for him to continue residence within the closet, Harry decided, squinting to make out the time on his age-cracked black watch of eleven years.

It had been a present (in fact the _only_ present he'd earned the pleasure of receiving, from anyone) from an uncle of whom Harry had heard was currently residing in the county jail - the crime Harry was unsure of.

The crime however wasn't a matter of concern for Harry as his thoughts on his uncle usually ranged as far as hoping himself able to move in with the man once he was released from jail.

 _6:45_ \- he had an hour and fifteen for his own personal relaxation before time demanded he hurry over to the party Reggie was throwing that afternoon.

Resting his head against the cool floor, Harry allowed his eyes to shut. A short nap would do the trick of making the time pass fast. And the darkness of his usually dreamless slumbers was quick to swallow him up.

* * *

I actually haven't written in a while and would love some assessments on my writing if any?


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